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I absently rubbed at my rib where my father had shot me, though the Kevlar I’d been wearing saved my life.
A part of me couldn't believe he'd actually fired. But then a part of me could believe it. I'd been worried about saving his life. And all the while, I was completely expendable to him. But out in the field, I had back up that I didn't know about. He'd shot me after my shot had gone just wide. But behind me, Kaya Reynolds had been there. And she hit her mark right dead center in the chest. Three shots. And my father had fallen.
"It's beautiful."
"You know,” he said, “there were times that I wondered if I'd made this place up."
"Well, clearly not."
"Yeah." He slid the key inside the lock and turned it, gingerly stepping inside and then pausing. "God, it smells the same. Like cookies and perfume, I think. It smells of my mother."
"Well, now it gives you a good memory."
"Yeah, it does."
As we walked into the room, there were all these photos of the young Westin. I could see glimpses of the boy I knew. The little chubby face, the gap-toothed grin, the unruly hair. But it was the eyes. It was always the eyes. Ice-blue and slightly mischievous, framed by thick dark lashes despite the blond hair. "You were cute."
"You still think I'm cute."
I rolled my eyes. "Jesus. Of course. I see you're so humble."
He laughed. "Well, no one's ever accused me of that."
I laughed. "I can see why."
As he walked down memory lane, my heart squeezed. I was young when my parents died. I had only flickers of memories of that house, but not much information. And someone else lived in it now.
Saff had done some digging for us. It turned out Westin’s father, Royce St. James, and my father, Ebert Crane had started an investment firm together. And what happened was basically an elaborate Ponzi scheme with Julian Montgomery at the helm. From what the Rogues had been able to pull together, my father and Royce hadn't known until it was far too late. After they both died under very suspicious circumstances, Julian had then realized that the money he'd thought to siphon from his business partners had been left to their children. So then he'd worked to get us under his care, even going so far as to fake a paternity test and claim to be my biological father. My feelings for him were complicated now. He'd robbed me of my entire childhood. He'd robbed me and my sister, someone who actually loved me. But there had been times when I would have sworn that he'd cared, and I was handling some shit that I was going to have to pay a lot of money to a therapist to deal with.
Westin took my hand. "I see you working it all out in your head."
"I mean, it's hard not to."
"I know. It's hard for me too, especially being here. But at least we know we were both loved. Our parents didn't abandon us. They were taken from us."
"I know. I just… It's hard to reconcile it all."
"I know. And I know it will take time. But at least we have each other."
He pulled me to him, and his woodsy, spicy scent wrapped around me, comforting me. I inhaled deeply and a sliver of desire wove through me like a shadow. Soft and tempting. "Westin?"
He nuzzled me. "Yes, love?"
"Are those your hands on my arse?"
"Yes. Sorry, but what's a man to do? His sexy girlfriend smells good and looks good."
"You are incorrigible."
"I mean, you do smell good."
I lifted my head, looping my arm around his neck. "You smell good too. Since this is your house, where would you like to christen first?"
His gaze immediately dipped to my lips, and he bit his bottom one. "Ugh, of course, you would tempt me now."
"I tempt you always. But what's the problem with that?"
"The problem is we don't have time for that."
